Pranks Make You Smarter
by A Guinea Pig Combo Please
Summary: Arthur has come to release he's being challenged to a possible prank-off with an infamous French foe. Who will win? And if things get taken to the next level... Who will die?


Squeaks echoed the hall of the Englishmen's house. These bunny slippers were one of the best gifts I'd ever gifted to myself, he thought with a smirk; wiggling his toes inside the comfortable footwear.

They're softness was incomparable.

He cupped his warm tea cup in both hands, brought it to his nose, and inhaled its heavenly scent. Oh, how his self agrees so much with himself.

It felt so good to finally take a break from those idiots, he chuckled lightly while slowly shaking his head.

Arthur turned the knob to his master bedroom and practically waltzed inside, stopping at his bed. He grinned.

Fit for a king.

He snugly laid down on said bed and placed his earl grey on its very own china plate. He tightened his fluffy white bathrobe, with a sewed in patch of the Union Jack, around his waist.

Grabbing a satin pillow, he held it close to his chest and settled into the running man position, letting his eyelids droop.

Thunk!

His trimmed yet bushy eyebrows furrowed and he grunted, clutching the pillow tighter.

Thunk!

His mind told him to ignore it. It's probably some bloody bird who couldn't define its left from its right. He silently agreed with himself and the sound ceased.

...

...

THUNK!

"Mother of Queen!" The blond man angrily rose out of his comfortable position, flinging his matching pillow to the window in which the sound seemed to be ricocheting from. Arthur waited a couple of seconds, death-glaring the window, surprised it didn't melt into a glassy puddle at his look.

His green eyes where taut and he scowled, glaring at the window right in front of him. His teeth where tightly gritted, practically/almost grinding. When he finds out who the bloody hell was the smart one who decided it would be a GREAT idea to-

THUNK!

THUNK!

THUNK!

"Bloody Bastards!" Arthur gripped the velvet curtains in his fists and roughly yanked the window open and slapped his palms flat on the ledge. Peering out into the darkness, squinting his eyes, determined he'd find the insufferable culprit.

Almost instantly, he saw something.

There seemed to be long white ghosts all in the same rhythm suspending from his trees, his recently clipped bushes, his mailbox, splayed out on his clean-cut lawn, even!

Arthur's bushy eyebrows shot, up completely hidden underneath hairline. He held in a muffled scream as he stumbled in an attempt to back away from the scene.

His face turned almost as white as Gilbert!

Panicked, his hands held back his wild hair that was kept well not even minutes ago. His eyes darted wildly as his mind whirred with thoughts.

He could've sworn he turned off that spell weeks ago!

The Englishman's adams apple leapt in his already dry throat. He'd have to overcome his assumptions and figure out the truth.

He was in the midst of closing his window when he saw something white soar across once more in the air towards him. He screeched and slammed it shut.

THUNK!

Frantically, he rushed out of his house to find the truth. He grasped one of the doors to the outside and threw it open.

He took a glance at the ghosts and gulped. Whipped out his trusty companion he spun it in the air a few times and caught it again, hoping to release his nerves.

The obstinate man gulped once more and felt a cold sweat coming on(;)(,) proceeded forward. His wand straight out in front of him, defensively. If any of those damn ghosts so much as even THINK about touching me-"

THUNK!

Arthur turned around just in time to see another ghost fly right back towards his room window. then bonce off and fly back down(;)(,) a trail of white flapping wildly behind it.

Arthur's infamous eyebrows furrowed/met in the middle?. Couldn't it just fly right into his house through the walls..?

He shrugged it off and was about to continue his hunt for answers till' something grazed the top of his head, sending shivers down his spine.

He slowly turned around, the tip of his wand, already crazy setting off sparks and with his eyes tightly shut, he jutted/jabbed/air-stabbed his wand at it, sending off fire and seeing the ghost disintegrate before his eyes.

Perplexed, the don slowly got on his knees and began to feel the ghosts... dissolved ashes?

"That's not right..." he said out loud, confused. He slowly rose back up, hearing his bones creak and pop. Bloody hell, he really was getting old. He stretched his back and took a closer look at the ghosts, letting his hand touch it.

"T-toilet paper!?" he managed to spit.

He felt his mouth go dry

How he'd been so bloody foolish!

He yanked the long strung of toilet paper from the tree, hearing it rip from its branch. He tore it to shreds.

He blew a stream of air through his nose as he finally realized the unbelievable amount that where suspended from ...well, everywhere!

Arthur practically growled. Who the bloody fuck would have the audacity to do such a childish activity and on his property?! Already knowing the answer pissed the blond tsundere off even more. He was half tempted to go to the guys house and piss on his front door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of his neatly trimmed bushes, now smothered sloppily with strings of toilet paper (mention how u can still see some of the bushes peeking out?) Move a little.

The British man once more took out his wand,took a breath to calm himself. And casually flicked his wrist, setting the entire bush on fire.

It disintegrated in seconds, leaving the self-proclaimed gentleman puzzled.

Okay so the frog _wasn't_ in the bush. Arthur smiled devilishly, looking at the heap of ashes (once more?)

 _Better yet, that tosser better have been._

Arthur spun the wand in his hand and expertly caught it. He was ready to turn around when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Sacre bleu! That is quite the bonfire you've got going on~"

Francis aimed to stroke Arthur's ear; He completely freaked, causing him to trip on his own feet as he tried to run away from his infamous enemy.

"I swear to god, Bonnefoy when i get off this damn lawn-!" He grumbled loudly as he managed to regain his balance; ready to practically rip the Frenchman a new one.

"Now, just WHAT the hell do you think you're doing, frog?!" Arthur spat, pointing accusingly at Francis and giving his most fiercest of glares.

Francis sighed and looked at his nails; determined to piss the former pirate even more.

"Isn't it obvious, Anglaterre? I'm tp-ing your house," he said plainly, practically dangling a roll of toilet paper right in the face of the cynical man.

Arthur gritted his teeth, "Get that shit outta my face, frog", he seethed, attempting to swat the bothersome thing out of his sight.

Francis merrily tormented the gent with his notorious laugh failing to notice the anger flash in Arthur's eyes, suspiciously keeping his arm locked behind his back.

"I do not appreciate this load of bullocks you've created on my house, in front of my house, bloody shit!" Arthur seethed through his teeth, hand clenched around his hidden wand.

Francis laughed his infamous laugh and swiftly turned around.

"'Till we meet again, Anglaterre~" Francis waved, wiggling his fingers at the nose-wrinkled Brit who's head was conspicously hung low. Francis smirked.

 _Cinglé._

Arthur seemed to have another plan in mind. Slowly standing up, he flexed his fingers while still holding a grip on the wand that seemed to be sending off mini-flares at astounding speed. He never seemed to be able to control it whenever it did that. With a stern look and no hesitation, the pissed-off chap made a swipe of his wand, sending a jet of fire screaming across the sky and to his infamous foe.

France yelped, jumping off the ground and his hand immediately going to his charring bottom.

"Curse you, eyebrows!" He yelled, enough for the howling Brit to hear.

Arthur collapsed into a heap of tears; sure that he sounded like a nutcase. He could care less. That twat got what he deserved! He relaxed onto the grass with his hands behind his head, grinning.

Englishman, one.

Frenchman, zero.


End file.
